It’s October 1, 1996 and I’m in a hospital room visiting with my grandmother. I’m seven months pregnant and insisting this baby had better be a girl. She’s lecturing me for the millionth time that God will give me what he wants me to have. We’re laughing and enjoying each other’s company. But then we always did.
My Uncle Jerry came in to speak to her. He told her he needed to discuss a few things with her. I stood up to leave but he asked me to stay. He began to tell her it was becoming harder for his mom to care for her. So after she got out of the hospital this time, she’d have to go into a nursing home.
I’ll never forget the look on her face when she heard the words nursing home. It broke my heart. He told her it would be the best thing for her. One of her granddaughters worked at the nursing home and would be there with her everyday. He looked to me to help convince her but I didn’t say anything. My grandmother agreed but I think she did that to avoid an argument.
I knew in that moment that she wouldn’t be leaving this hospital alive. I knew she wouldn’t allow them put her in one of those places. She’d already lost her independence because of her health. She’d already been taken out of her home because she could no longer live alone.
My grandmother was one of the most independent women I ever knew. Now she had to depend on others to help care for her. She had to depend on others to make sure she had her dialysis treatments. Without them, she’d slip into a coma and die. But being put into a nursing home would be the ultimate insult. I went home that night and prepared myself for the phone call from the hospital. When we arrived at home that evening, our phone rang. It was my mother telling me to come back to the hospital as soon as possible. We rested a bit and drove the hour back to San Antonio.
She had requested that her dialysis treatments be stopped. It was her way of taking back some control over her life. In less than twenty-four hours, she slipped into a coma. All that was left to do was wait. I slept in the waiting room. I left once only to get some lunch. But during lunch, I had a feeling I should get back to her. I went directly to her room when we returned from lunch. As I stepped into the doorway, I saw the nurse holding her wrist. And then I heard her say she’d passed away. Everyone in the room, except for me, started to cry.
